I Will Not Cry
by guardian921
Summary: We all know that Bernard was placed under house arrest, but sometimes we're only told parts of the whole story. Parts that hide the emotional scars. ***Now updated***
1. Original

I Will Not Cry

Author: guardian921

Rated: T (hinted sexual assault; language); English; General/Angst; One-Shot

Authors Note: This was what I had hoped would be the first in a series I planned to write, explain the history of Bernard. Now, however, I've decided to simply rewrite this since I am older and able to actually write an M-rated fic. The first chapter is the original while the second chapter will be the slightly altered, much more mature one. Please bare with me, as this was simply a trial story to begin with.

Also, I wish to dedicate this fanfiction to my late grandmother, since I first wrote this during the last vacation I ever had with my her before she died the following year. Although this is a very depressing and morbid story, nothing at all like my grandma, she was the one who always encouraged me to write whatever my imagination can conjure. So Grandma, as you watch me from above, know that you are always with me when I write.

_**Look at me and what do you see**_

_**A child who has lost their way**_

_**Wandering in the dark**_

_**Longing for a friend**_

_**Someone to lead me home**_

_**From the beginning of time**_

_**I suffered a pain**_

_**That left me confused and worn**_

_**It tore at my mind**_

_**Ate at my flesh**_

_**Left me to die alone**_

_**It was then that I swore **_

_**What I should have realized**_

_**A long time before**_

"You know Bernard, that wasn't very nice of you to tell the elves lies like that," the voice was both mocking and cruel as the enormous tin soldiers threw the over-grown elf to the ground in a heap, knocking the wind out of him for a moment. "Why would you lie? I'm very curious as to know why. I think you know how curious I am."

"It's not a lie," Bernard snarled, allowing the anger he had penned up toward the toy for so long slowly loose. "You're nothing but a toy! A stupid toy that was suppose to simply pose as a living Santa mannequin! You aren't the real Santa, which means that you have absolutely no right to treat the elves this way, or make these stupid changes at the North Pole!"

"I'm afraid that I'd have to disagree with you." The elf felt a cold shudder run down his spine as the maniac toy leaned close to his face, the smell of plastic and rubber filling Bernard's nostrils. "You see I am both living and am the only Santa in the North Pole. Henceforth that clearly makes me Santa Clause, Chris Cringle, Fa Noel whatever, and so on and so forth."

Bernard stared at the toy in disbelief. _Curtis,_ he thought. _What have you created? What have you done to us?_ Toy Santa kept on ranting about something or other, but it fell upon deaf ears as his victim simply viewed the fact that this was the end. The tormented faces of the elves flashed before his eyes. The tears of the children who would suffer from the loss of Christmas; finding nothing but coal in their stockings.

"You aren't listening, are!" Bernard yelped as his attention came back to reality, as the Santa grabbed him by the hair. "Look at me when I'm talking! It's not like I'm talking to the fuckin' tin men here who always wanted goddamn brains!"

"A heart," the elf corrected, smirking despite the pain. The toy didn't even know his stories right.

"What?"

"The Tin Man wanted a heart. It was the Scarecrow who wanted a brain. Both needed something in order to make them more human, just like you. Only you not only need a heart and brain, but real skin as well. Hopefully some that doesn't smell like BO-Rubber."

"That reminds," an evil grin spread across the lunatics face, sending shivers up Bernard's spine again as he felt a chill fill the air. "That was extremely rude and inappropriate of you to mention to the elves. How would you appreciate it if I talked about your fine arse? Hmmm?"

Fear consumed the elf in a way that he had not felt since the Grim Reaper came to the Council of Legendary Figures back during his first year as second head elf. Not only was this language uncommon for his ears to hear, but the gleam in the false eyes were so full of evil that he felt as though he couldn't move.

"Scared? Good!" Bernard felt his breath leave him as the toy kicked him square in the gut with his boot. The kick was so unannounced and forceful that the elf flew back, his back crashing against the wall. Again the toy kicked him, and again, over and over. Tears were held back as he felt his ribs begin to shatter. _I will not cry. I will not cry. _"Having fun, you filthy, mother-fuckin' pixie? You despicable, slobbering troll!"

_I will not cry. I will not cry. Oh Mother Nature! How can he be so strong? He's only a toy! I cannot give him the pleasure of seeing me cry! Emotions are signs of weakness!_

_**I will not cry**_

_**I will not show signs of pain**_

_**Emotions are weak**_

_**Whether joy or dismay**_

_**And I swear from this day**_

_**I shall never show**_

_**Never let them know how I feel**_

_**Whether laughter or tears**_

_**They will not feel the satisfaction**_

_**From my emotions**_

_**And I will not cry**_

Continually the Toy Santa beat the prisoner; all the while yelling profanities and all the while Bernard held back his tears and cries. It was not long after that a warm, sticky substance was felt on his face. Bernard's eyes shot open. _Blood! _Elves were not meant to bleed, seeing as they were both joyful creatures and immortal. Only a severe wound could cause an immortal to bleed, and he could feel the substance all over his body. _Then why don't I feel pain? Why can't I feel anything?_

"I see fear in your eyes. I like it! That's what I like to see in my slaves. Ha!"

"A toy maker never serves the toy!" Anger flashed in his eyes as he tried to sit up, but cringed as the pain took over him, causing him to lean against the wall for support. A wave of dizziness swept over him as he tried to focus on the three Toy Santas that stood before him. "He builds it and when he realizes that it's defected, he sends it to the incinerator where all the mistakes go! Which is exactly where you belong! It was a mistake to make you in the fuckin' first place! I hope that you melt you plastic ass off in Hell!"

"I've got a better idea," he reached over to the candle that stood lit on the windowsill. Bernard's eyes widened, but he tried not to show the fear he felt as his eyes followed the flickering orange flame. "Why don't you burn instead?"

Before Bernard could react, the tin soldiers had grabbed him. Despite his struggles, he could not budge from their grip. Laughing like the psychotic toy he was, the tyrant grabbed Bernard by the hand and yanked it at an odd angle in front of him. With a yelp of pain from his victim, he tore the red sleeve, slowly placing the flame at the white underbelly of the Head Elf's forearm. Bernard screamed in agony as his once white flesh slowly darkened a crispy black, the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

O Mother Nature! Make it stop! I will not cry! I will not cry! What is this monster? How could he do this? I can't do this! Make it stop! Somebody, please! I'm going to die! Immortals can't die, yet I'm going to die! Grim! Just take me now and let this end!

"Feels good, doesn't it? That's just a piece of what you and the rest of those mother-fucking maggot spawn will suffer if you ever disobey me again. Understand?"

Tears now fell freely from Bernard's eyes as he let it all loose. Damn his weakness. He simply lay there in a sobering heap, his immortal blood spilling from his wounds that had numbed over, staining his clothes and body silver. There was no strength left in him to bother trying to respond. All he could do was cry; like a child lost in the dark with no form of light or hope. He cried out of pain, out of fear, out stress, out of hatred; he cried out of sorrow, out of confusion, out of longing, out of jealousy. All the emotions that he had held in for so long were finally released in a giant break down, both mentally and physically. How could this have happened? He should have seen it coming and stopped it, but he did not. The abuse brought back so many memories that made no sense to him. _A man standing over him with a raised fist, a leather strap in hand. A child huddled in fear as ruby blood plastered his skin. A woman crying and screaming at the man as she hugged him._ Why did this pain seem so familiar? Where could he have possibly experienced it before?

_**This pain it can't be real**_

_**How is this happening**_

_**I've felt it time and time before**_

_**The slash across my back**_

_**The stars before my eyes**_

_**And I know it very well**_

_**From where I can't recall**_

_**Nor by whom or when or why**_

_**But as the pain fills my soul**_

_**Blowing out the candle light**_

_**And froze my mind numb**_

_**It was then that I swore**_

_**What I should have realized**_

_**A long time before**_

"I knew you'd come around," Toy Santa smiled as he bent down to the trembling elf that was sobbing uncontrollably, hugging himself and rocking back-n-forth as well. With a small chuckle, the toy placed a plastic hand to his prisoner's bloodied forehead, stroking the dark locks that were soaked with blood, tears, and sweat from the night's torment. Frowning as the elf cringed at the mere touch, Toy Santa gently stroked the cheek as well. "Anyone ever tell you that you're pretty sexy when you're like this? No? Oh well, that's too bad. Now Bernard, look at me. Look at me. Bernard! Look at me, goddamn it!"

Bernard, who had been trying to imprison himself in the "bubble" that Charlie mentioned a few times when trying to play Neil and analyze him, simply curled up tighter and shook his head. Frustrated, the impersonator grabbed him fiercely by the face and forced his face towards his. Bernard screamed at the pain that shot through his dislocated jaw as he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they would go. He tried to imagine that he was somewhere else besides in his cabin. The image of himself and two elves flashed in his mind. They were in a nice, green glen along the coast of Scotland. _Scotland?_ They were playing tag along the stream and he was it. _Wait a minute, why am I a kid? Why aren't my ears pointed like the other two?_

It was then that he felt the rubbery taste of fervent plastic on his lips that he became aware of his surroundings once again. _Oh Mother Nature! Is he kissing me? Oh please make it stop! Please make it stop! Please! Please… please…_

"_Please–_" he began to cry out in hopes that a passing elf would hear him, only to be cut off as a hunk of plastic forced itself into his mouth, silencing his cries for help. It was the psychotic pervert's tongue. Bernard had the sudden urge to bite the tongue off, but he was so weak that he could only fall limp against the toy from shock and exsation. Bernard felt his stomach fluids churn as the demon began to feel about his body, trying to become familiar with parts of Bernard that not even he knew existed, his smooth, rubber lips tracing parts of his form with such vigor that the elf soon felt himself hyperventilating from the cloustraphobic contact. Staring down at the fallen elf before him, Toy Santa laughed.

"You can't win, my little pet! I am in control here. I am Santa and as a Christmas elf you belong to me. You," he turned to a tin man as he stood up, letting the semiconscious elf slid to the floor in a heap. "Get one of those blasted healers! I want him in tip-top shape, understand? As for you…"

Bernard's surroundings were starting to become dark and fuzzy as the pain and trauma started to claim him. Through it all though, he was able to make out the vague image of Santa, filling him with dread as he turned from the tin soldier to him. "Consider this a warning, maggot! Next time you'll find yourself in a coffin!"

_Strange,_ he mused, the pain having numbed both his body and mind. _Why have I heard that before?_

And with that, all went black.

_**I will not cry**_

_**I will not show signs of pain**_

_**Emotions are weak**_

_**Whether joy or dismay**_

_**And I swear from this day**_

_**I shall never show**_

_**Never let them know how I feel**_

_**Whether laughter or tears**_

_**They will not feel the satisfaction**_

_**From my emotions**_

_**And I will not cry**_

_**Because Emotions are weak**_

_**Whether joy or dismay**_

_**And I swear from this day**_

_**I shall never show**_

_**Never let them know how I feel**_

_**Whether laughter or tears**_

_**They will not feel the satisfaction**_

_**From my emotions**_

_**And I will not cry…**_

_**I will not cry…**_

_**Will not cry…**_

The End?

So what did you think? Good? Bad? Any suggestions? All comments are welcome, but please no flames. They will simply be used to light my brand new fireplace in my new apartment in beautiful Montana. Helpful criticism is welcome, though. I really do hope to write a sequel as soon as possible, however seeing as I'm in college now, it'll be a bit difficult what with my classes and grades, so please bare with me. If I don't get to it, then I don't get to it. Also, I totally cried while writing this. I can't believe I put him through this. All Bernard fans, please forgive me, but I felt that the Toy Santa's evil needed to be exposed.

All characters are c/o Disney

"_I Will Not Cry_" c/o me


	2. Updated

I Will Not Cry

Author: guardian921

Rated: M (sexual assault; language); English; General/Angst; One-Shot

Author's Note: Here is the rewritten version that I promised. This is a slightly more mature and detailed version; so before anyone starts to complain, please realize that you had been warned.

_Look at me and what do you see?_

_A child who has lost their way_

_Wandering in the dark_

_Longing for a friend_

_Someone to lead me home._

_From the beginning of time_

_I suffered a pain_

_That left me confused and worn._

_It tore at my flesh_

_Left me to die here alone._

_It was then that I swore_

_What I should have realized_

_A long time before_

_I will not cry._

_I will not show signs of pain.  
Emotions are weak_

_Whether joy or dismay._

_And I swear from this day_

_I shall never show_

_Never let them know how I feel_

_Whether laughter or tears_

_They will not feel the satisfaction_

_From my emotions_

_And I will not cry._

_This pain, I can't be real._

_How is this happening?_

_I've felt it time and time before_

_The slash on my back_

_The stars before my eyes_

_And I know it very well._

_From where, I can't recall_

_Nor by whom or when or why_

_But as the pain fills my soul_

_Blowing out the candle light_

_And froze my mind numb._

_It was then that I swore_

_A long time before_

_I will not cry_

_I will not show signs of pain_

_Emotions are weak_

_Whether from joy or dismay_

_And I swear from this day_

_I shall never show_

_Never let know how I feel_

_Whether the laughter or tears_

_They will not feel the satisfaction_

_From my emotions_

_And I will not cry_

_Because emotions are weak_

_Whether joy or dismay_

_And I swear from this day_

_I shall never show_

_Never let them know how I feel_

_Whether laughter or tears_

_They will not feel the satisfaction_

_From my emotions_

_And I will not cry…_

_I will not cry…_

_Will not cry…_

"You know Bernard, that wasn't very nice of you to tell the elves lies like that," A voice spoke from behind the giant tin men. A voice that was not only both mocking and cruel, but was filled with confusion as the poor soul lay crumpled on the hardwood floor and gasping for air as the wind was knocked out of him briefly. "Why would you lie? Lying isn't very Christmas-like, you know, so I'm very curious as to know why you would do such a thing. I think you know just how curious I can be."

"It's not a lie," Bernard wheezed in pain as he attempted to pull himself up dignifiedly. All of the anger and frustration that he had pent up inside him for the past several weeks had finally begun to take form as he felt himself slowly letting it loose while trying to talk some sense into the animated toy. "When are you going to realize that you're nothing but a toy? A stupid toy that was created for the sole purpose of standing in as a temporary substitute for the real Santa. Don't you get it? You're nothing more then a Santa-based, animatronic mannequin! You aren't the real Santa, which means that you have absolutely no right to treat the elves this way, not to mention make these stupid changes on how the North Pole operates!"

"Mm, mmm, let's see. Mm, mmm – Now see, that is where I'm afraid I would have to disagree with you." A cold shudder ran down the elf's spine as the maniac toy wagged a finger at the elf, as if scolding a human child. With his other arm tucked tightly behind his back, the Santa began to strut around the small cabin in an educating manner, much like Dr. Miller would when playing professor. "You see I am both living and, although there are indeed many false Santas throughout the world, am the only one currently located in the North Pole. Henceforth that clearly makes me Santa Clause, Chris Cringle, Fa Noel and so on and so forth. _Should_, however, another Santa arrive at the North Pole and claim to be the 'real' Santa, why, then they would be the imposter now wouldn't they? What with arriving from the outside and all."

Bernard could only stare at the toy in disbelief as he took in the accuracy of the claim. It was so ridiculous, so... basic, that it made perfect, logical sense.

The Toy Santa kept on ranting about the precautions that he would take should any 'imposters' arrive, but it fell upon deaf ears as his 'Head Elf' fell into a fog of his own musings. He had assumed that the child-like mental programming would have made the toy easy to control. How could he have known that the puppet would have grown a sense of twisted morals and tyrannical strength by simply reading the Santa Handbook? Soon he found himself caught in a whirlwind of scenarios flashing before his mind's eye. The tormented faces of the elves flashed before his eyes. The tears of the children who would suffer from the loss of Christmas, finding nothing but lumps of coal in their stockings.

_Curtis,_ he thought. _What have you created? What have you done to us?_

"Have you even listened to a single thing I've said?" Bernard yelped as a rubbery hand seized a fistful of his hair, the pain bringing him attention came back to reality as 'Santa' leaned in close to his face, the smell of plastic and rubber filling Bernard's nostrils. "You _will_ look at me when I'm talking, is that understood? What, do you think that my words have no meaning behind them? That I'm just rambling off some pre-programed gibberish? Unlike those fucking tin men, I have a brain!"

"A heart," the elf smirked despite the pain. The toy didn't even know his elementary stories right.

"What?"

"The Tin Man needed a _heart_," he humored the tyrant. "It was the _Scarecrow_ who wanted a brain. Both needed something in order to make them more human, just like you. Only you not only need a heart _and_ brain, but real skin as well. Hopefully some that doesn't smell like BO-Rubber."

"_Don't correct me!_" Bernard grunted as The Toy Santa tightened his grip while his free hand backhanded the elf. The anger that glowered in the synthetic eyes soon took on a mischievous spark as an evil grin spread across the madman's face. A shiver ran up Bernard's spine as he felt any confidence he may have had drop faster then the chill that seemed to have descended upon the room. "That reminds me... that was an extremely rude and inappropriate thing of you to do, mentioning that little detail to the elves. How would you appreciate it if I talked about your petite arse? Hmmm?"

Fear began to consume the elf in a way that he had not experienced since his first year as Number Two Elf, back when the Grim Reaper had actually decided to attend the annual _Council of Legendary Figures_ meeting over four hundred years ago. Not only was this language uncommon for his ears to hear, but the gleam in the blue glass orbs were so full of evil that he felt as though he could not move.

"Scared? _Good!_" Bernard felt his breath leave him as the toy punched him square in the gut with his free fist. Crumbling to the ground, the elf hunched over as the toy released the vice grip that had claimed the black locks, allowing the elf to fall to the floor once more. Bernard wrapped his arms around his sucker-punched middle in an attempt to dull the pain as he gasped for air. Unfortunately, by the time he managed to pull himself to his knees he found his stomach once again being brutally beaten, this time by the heavy-duty, steel-toed boots.

The kick was so unannounced and forceful that the elf flew back, his back crashing against the cabin wall. Again the toy kicked him, over and over. Tears were held back as he felt his ribs begin to crack under the strain.

_I will not cry,_ He mentally chanted to himself. _I will not cry._

"Having fun, you filthy, mother-fuckin' pixie? You despicable, slobbering troll?"

_I will not cry. I will not cry- Oh Mother Nature! There's no way he should be this strong! He's only a toy for Frosty's sake! Gah...! I... I will not give him the pleasure of seeing me cry! I won't! I won't! Emotions are signs of weakness!_

The Toy Santa continued to beat his prisoner. A punch to the jaw followed by a stomp to the leg, a kick to the stomach and a slam to the head.

The Toy Santa continued to yell profanities at his prisoner. Cursing the elf's family, comparing him to the ugly mine trolls; a bastard son of a worthless holiday whore. Changeling. Reindeer-humping troll.

And continuously Bernard held back his cries of pain, his tears of humiliation. Even when he began to feel a warm, sticky substance oozing down his face from a cut on his forehead, from his now broken nose, from his mouth as he coughed for air, he held his emotions in check despite his fear for his very life.

Elves, you see, are sturdy creatures. Their skin, despite the delicate appearance, was quite tough and thick so to withstand the cold winter air that would otherwise cause them to freeze to death. It was because of this toughness that it was rare for one to actually bleed, as it would take great force for the skin to break. Broken bones and sprained muscles were common enough, but to bleed? An elf's blood was one of two sources for their immortality, the other being a joyful outlook on their life. A frown, after all, was proven to shave several seconds off of being's life; one of the reason's Bernard's physician had recommended more smiling and several cheerful habits to his otherwise stressed and negative disposition.

He knew that Toy Santa was indeed using full strength on him, for by now he could feel the warm liquid over most of his body.

_Then why don't I feel pain? Why can't I feel anything?_

"I see fear in your eyes," the Toy Santa paused in his ministrations to admire his work. "I _like it_! That's what I like to see in my slaves. Ha-hah!"

"A toy maker... _never_ serves the toy!" Anger flashed in his eyes as he tried to sit up, but cringed as the pain took over him, causing him to lean against the wall for support. A wave of dizziness swept over him as he tried to focus on the three Santas that stood before him behind black dots. "He builds it and when he realizes that it's defected, sends it to the incinerator where all the mistakes go! _Which is exactly where you belong!_ It was a mistake to make you in the fucking first place! _I hope that you melt you plastic ass off in Hell!_"

"Hmm... I've got an even better idea." The Toy Santa walked over to the small kitchenette and reached for one of the lit candles that Bernard had left sitting on the counter. Bernard's eyes widened as the toy leisurely made its way back over to where he sat, but tried not to show the fear he felt as his eyes followed the flickering orange flame. "Why don't you burn instead?"

Before Bernard could react, the tin soldiers had grabbed him. Despite his struggles, he could not budge from their grip. Laughing like the psychotic monster he was, the tyrant grabbed Bernard by the hand and yanked it out at an odd angle in front of him. Satisfied with the yelp of pain he managed to incite from his victim, he tore at the red sleeve, revealing the pale, hairless arm that was hidden underneath. With precise skill, the toy slowly placed the flame just an inch below the white underbelly of the Head Elf's forearm. It did not take long for Bernard to begin screaming in agony as the once white flesh was slowly darkened a crispy black, the smell and crackle of burning flesh overpowering one another as they filled his small home.

_Oh Mother Nature! Make it stop! Just make it stop! I can't do this anymore! I'm willing to cry! I'm __**going**__ cry! Just make it stop! What is this monster? How can he __**do this**__? __**Make it stop!**__ Somebody, __**please!**__ I'm going to die! Immortals can't die, yet I'm going to die! Death! Just take me now and let this end! I __**want**__ to die! I want to if it means the pain will stop!_

"Feels good, doesn't it?" The Toy Santa cooed before taking the flame away and handing it to one of the toy soldiers. "That's just a _fraction_ of what you and the rest of those mother-fucking maggot spawn will suffer if you _ever_ disobey me again. Understand?"

Tears now fell freely from Bernard's eyes as he let it all loose. Damn it all, he did not care anymore. He simply lay there in a sobering heap, his immortal blood spilling from his wounds that had numbed over, staining his clothes and body silver. There was no strength left in him to bother trying to respond. All he could do was cry like a child lost in the dark with no form of light or hope. He cried out of pain, out of fear, out stress, out of hatred. He cried out of sorrow, out of confusion, out of longing, and even out of jealousy. All the emotions that he had held in for so long were finally released in a giant break down, both mentally and physically. How could this have happened? He should have seen it coming and put a stop to it, but he did not. The abuse brought back so many memories that made no sense to him.

_A man standing over him with a raised fist, a leather strap in hand. A child huddled in fear as metallic blood plastered his skin. A woman crying and screaming at the man as she hugged the boy._ Why did this pain seem so familiar? Where could he have possibly experienced it before?

"I knew you'd come around," the Toy Santa smiled as he bent down to the trembling elf that was sobbing uncontrollably, hugging himself and rocking back-n-forth as well. The toy placed a plastic hand to his prisoner's bloodied forehead with a small chuckle, stroking the dark locks that were soaked with blood, tears, and sweat from the night's beatings. The elf cringed as the Toy Santa gently stroked his reddened cheek of the elf, causing the replica's rubber face to scrunch in a confused frown. Continuing with his ministrations, trailing the plastic digit across the jawline and up along the earlobe where he then began to rub the pointed tip between his fingers. "Has anyone ever told you that you're _awfully_ pretty when you're scared like this? No? Oh well, that's too bad. Now Bernard, I want you to look at me. Bernard? Look at me. Look at me, dammit!"

Bernard, who had been trying to imprison himself inside his "bubble" up until that point, simply curled up tighter with his back pressed flush against the wall and shook his head, his injured arm clutched close to his chest. Frustrated, the impersonator grabbed him fiercely by the face and forced his face towards the plastic one replica of his trusted boss. Bernard screamed at the pain that shot through his dislocated jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they would go. He tried to imagine that he was somewhere else besides his cabin.

The image of himself and what appeared to be two elves, a boy and a girl, flashed before his eyes like an old fashioned home movie. The three of them could not have been more then seven hundred years old and were playing in a nice, green glen along the coast of Scotland.

_Scotland?_

They were playing tag along the stream and he was it. A smile had completely taken over his features as his fingers just barely almost skimmed over the bare skin of the female elf's arm. She spun around and her red hair whipped across her body, the sun setting it aflame in the light. The boy, who had light brown hair and a face full of freckles, laughed as Bernard stumbled over a stone and fell face first into the grassy ground.

_Now I remember, _he mused with a faint sense of happiness. _I used to live there... those were my friends. They weren't elves, though... what were they, again?_

It was not until he felt the rubbery taste of fervent plastic on his lips that Bernard was dragged out of his thoughts and became aware of his surroundings once again, this time in hysterics.

_Oh Mother Nature! What is he - Is he kissing me? Oh please make it stop! Please make it stop! Please! Please… please…_

"_Please sto–_" he began to cry out in futile hopes that a passing elf would hear him, only to be cut off as a hunk of plastic forced itself into his mouth, silencing his cries for help. It was the psychotic pervert's tongue. The sudden urge to bite the tongue off came over him, but his body was so weak that he could do nothing more than fall limp against the toy from shock and exhaustion. Bernard felt his stomach fluids churn as the plastic demon began to feel about his body, trying to become familiar with parts of him that not even the elf knew existed. His smooth, rubber lips began to create a trail of small kisses. From the corner of his lips and up along the cheekbone, finally to his earlobe. The Toy Santa spent a moment just nibbling the tender flesh and enjoying the moans that the over-grown elf was emitting through clenched teeth, all while using his hand to rub the tip of the other. It did not take long for the elf to feel the need for air overpower him. Weakly he placed his hands against the fat man's chest in an attempt to push him off, only to cause the toy to pull back with a deep chuckle.

"_Ho ho ho..._" he laughed before waving a hand toward the guards who stiffly marched from the cabin, leaving the two of them alone. Blue eyes glinted maliciously at the elf as he wrapped his arm around the considerably slimmer waist, pulling him flush against his round belly. A sadistic smile was molded into the rubber features as Bernard squirmed against him. "A _feisty_ little worker, aren't we? Well, don't worry my precious little hobgoblin. I have _plenty_ of work for you. Yes, yes, yes indeed. Tonight you are going to be my very s_pecial_ little helper."

Before Bernard's pain riddled mind could fully comprehend the replica's words, the Toy Santa had his left hand fiddling with the large belt buckle that was fastened around the head elf's waist while the other used its grasp on the beaded necklace around the slender throat to draw the elf up to his knees. Again the rubber tongue began to ravage the angelic face with such vigor that the elf soon felt himself hyperventilating from the constant claustrophobic contact.

A high-pitched gasp was heard as the cold, rubber hand made its way up the maroon velvet and skimmed over the taut skin hidden underneath. Higher and higher the hand crept tantalizing against the sensitive skin, and harder and harder it became for the elf to keep the moans of unwelcome pleasure from escaping with his sobs of anguish.

"_Guhahhh...!_" Bernard found himself arching his spine back as the rubber hand reached one of his northern peaks and tweaked it, causing a jolt of intense pleasure to course through him. A loud thud was heard from the connection of his curly head slamming against the wall. Disgusted with himself, the Head Elf could only grunt with frustration as he clung to the hardened shoulders in hopes of gaining some stability. Once his head started to clear a bit, he tried to remember his basic hostage training from his short time in **E.L.F.S.**: _Calmly try to reason with the abductor._ "Whuh... why? Why are you doing this? This isn't something thah- _ahh_! That. That the real Santa would do."

"Because, my silly little helper..." the Toy Santa answered sweetly before significantly tightening his hold on the necklace. Bernard let go of the imposter's shoulders with a cry, clawing at the jewelry that was currently cutting off his air supply. Chocolate eyes widened in panic as the toy pushed against his chest and used the necklace to swing him away from the wall, slamming him face first against the wooden floor. "_I can!_"

_What is he going to do? _Bernard's mind did not seem to register the pain as he was too overcome with fear. _He… he's not actually going to rape me is he? He can't! He doesn't have the right anatomy for that, right?_

Memories of when the toy first emerged from the Panagraph those few weeks ago, as naked as a newborn babe.

_Oh frostbite_…

Bernard felt the blood drain from his face as he recalled how anatomically correct the fake truly was. True, the toy was not as detailed as the original, but the basic shape and girth was accurate enough. A hint of embarrassment over came him as he recalled how he had stared at the toy before the real Santa managed to snap him out of his dumbfounded astonishment, not to mention Curtis's innocent remark that was followed by Santa's slightly crude, egotistical one.

"Why so quiet?" The Toy Santa snapped Bernard out of his musings as a large hand slowly began to make its way up his shirt, the rubber leaving a trail of ice along his spine. Bernard let out a grunt as the hand latched onto the back of his neck, forcing him still as the other hand worked on pulling the velvet over his head and down his arms, where it served to lock them in place. "You aren't scared are you? Aw, isn't that cute? Don't tell me such an adorable elf like you is scared of a little intimacy?"

"What… what would _you_ know of intimacy?" the elf spat, grimacing as the fabric tightened against his burned arm. The Toy Santa merely laughed.

"Do you really think that the Handbook is the only reading I've been doing?" he barked. Bernard let out a surprised squeal as a large hand smacked him harshly on the bum of his pants. "I found some very, _very_ interesting reading in the bottom drawer of my desk, underneath all the papers and crap. Do you know what kind of reading it was? I'm very eager to tell you."

"I have a good idea," he grunted.

And indeed, Bernard had a very good idea as to the type of reading materials that the tyrant would have found hidden in Santa's desk. It was the only place that not even Head Elves would dare to trespass and, although Scott was Santa, he still had not yet reached the point of sainthood. That was a stage in the Santa process that took nearly thirty years to attain. Yes, Bernard knew of the "girlie" magazines that Scott Calvin kept hidden. He remembered first discovering such filth when Charlie had come to visit for a two weeks last summer holiday. Too embarrassed to ask his father, Charlie had shown him the magazines to him in hopes of learning whether such things were normal. Bernard admitted that he had seen no point in such publication, and was about to tell Charlie so when Santa had walked in. Both were scolded severely and Santa had confiscated the materials. Later the Head Elf questioned him on the disposial of the magazines, not wanting any of the other, much more innocent, elves to stumble across such filth. Santa had seemed slightly nervous, stuttering that Bernard need not worry about any of the other elves finding them, and was particularly concerned on distracting the over-sized elf's attention away from his desk.

"Awe," the Toy Santa pouted. "And here I was so excited to tell you. Ah, well. I suppose I could still… _show_ you, hmmm?"

"No…" Bernard was barely able to produce a whisper as he felt fear's icy fist clutch at his heart. Mentally he began praying to any Christmas Angel that might listen to aide him in his hour of need, but deep down he knew that it was hopeless. He knew as he felt the large hand fiddle with his pants that no help would come. He knew as he felt his pants bunch down around his ankles that he would be unable to stop the mad tyrant. He knew as he felt his legs being forcibly spread and his arms pinned at an odd angle above his head that he would not escape the horror that layed ahead of him.

And he knew as he felt the pain of his body being ripped in two that he would never be able to smile again.

"I hope you're satisfied," the toy tyrant chuckled after what seemed like hours, pulling at his trousers. "I really don't understand why you were screaming like that, because I didn't feel a thing. And my word, you certainly got the place wet, didn't you? I don't understand how such a small thing like you could make such a mess! Well, I suppose it's an elf thing, because I most certainly didn't do something as disgusting as that, now did I? Nope, not a drop!"

Unaware that this was proof of his existence as a toy, the Toy Santa began to laugh aloud in childish pride.

Bernard, on the other hand, could feel no desire to point this fact out to him, as he was too preoccupied with attempting to clear his mind. Having long succumbed to the pain, the elf could do nothing more than lay there on the floor in a boneless heap. He was unsure as to whether or not he were truly awake or even alive for that matter. The Head Elf felt a shudder run through his body as his very spirit began to slowly dissipate, leaving behind a husk of an elf in its wake. For just a brief moment, Bernard felt a sense of peace and tranquility overcome him before the monster resurfaced in his consciousness.

"Now, now, Bernard," the demon spoke in hushed, caring tones as he helped the elf to a sitting position against the wall, the mockery of kindness causing a dry sob to escape the small body. Although he did not wish to endulge in the toy's sick delusions of grandier, he was too exhausted to fight anymore. The monster had succeeded in breaking his body and his spirit, and Bernard had no desire to fight the inevitable. "Dry your tears. So long as you do as your told, then there will be no need for punishment. In fact, you might even learn to enjoy it! Now what say we get rid of this here rag."

Bernard could only slump against the wall like a ragdoll as the Toy Santa worked at tearing his ruined tunic off and tossed it in the corner. It was not until he reached for the trousers currently bunched at his ankles that Bernard flinched, barely more then a twitch, really.

"Ho-ho-ho! Bernard you naughty elf, you." The Toy Santa waved a scolding finger at the elf with a chuckle as he worked on pulling up the soiled trousers and fastening them up. "We'll have plenty of time for more fun after Christmas. Right now I need to check on the rest of the elves and make sure everything is running smoothly, alright?"

"Lea... leave them… alone…" Bernard managed to choke out. The brief thought of the tyrant treating the other elves in a similar matter fueled the small flicker of spirit that was left as he weakly grasp onto the toy's pant leg. "Ta… take me. Not… them… Hurt me… Please…"

"When are you going to learn, my little pet?" The Toy Santa crouched down. He took the elf's hands in his own and spoke with such a gentleness that Bernard almost believed that it was Scott with him instead of a monster. "_I_ am in control here. _I_ am Santa and as a Christmas elf _you_ belong to _me_."

"No…" Bernard closed his eyes in hopes of blocking the tears as he shook his head in sadness, mentally denying what he now wished was true. At least then his heart would not have been in such pain. A sob racked his body as the pain and stress finally took its toll and started to shut his consciousness down for needed rest. "Not… true. Santa, please… help…"

"Get one of those blasted healers down here. It's going to be hard work delivering all that coal, and I want him in tip-top shape for when I get back. Is that understood? As for you…" Bernard was unable to determine when the Tin Man had actually entered his dwelling, but Bernard was too busy trying to stay awake, his surroundings starting to become dark and fuzzy as the pain and trauma started to claim him. Through it all though, he was able to make out the vague image of Santa, filling him with dread as he turned from the tin soldier to stroke his face in false comfort. "Consider the pain a warning. Next time you'll find yourself in a coffin!"

_Strange,_ he mused, the pain having numbed both his body and mind. _Why have I heard that before?_

And with that, all went black.

The End?

So what did you think? Good? Bad? Any suggestions? Should I add a follow-up chapter?

All comments are welcome, but please no flames. They will simply be used to light my brand new fireplace in my new apartment in beautiful Montana. Helpful criticism is welcome, though. I really do hope to write a sequel as soon as possible, however seeing as I'm in college now, it'll be a bit difficult what with my classes and grades, so please bare with me. If I don't get to it, then I don't get to it. Also, I totally cried while writing this. I can't believe I put him through this. All Bernard fans, please forgive me, but I felt that the Toy Santa's evil needed to be exposed.

All characters are c/o Disney

"_I Will Not Cry_" c/o me


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